


(awkward) fistcuffs and whatnot

by Gobetti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobetti/pseuds/Gobetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really, really, REALLY wish this darn robot would just get off already.<br/>Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(awkward) fistcuffs and whatnot

**Author's Note:**

> My (very belated) gift for [Eye](http:\\\\eyecandyburns.tumblr.com)'s birthday!  
> I hope you had a good one! :D
> 
>  
> 
> \---

Great.

Just... _great_.

Would you look at this. Just… _bloody hell_.

You have to remember to kick Strider’s not-so-fine ass later.

You open your eyes and try to take in a deep breath, calm yourself down, but you’re too nervous for that.

I mean, how could you not be when that darn robot is looking – no, _staring_  at you like that??

You try, yet again, to push him off. No luck.

“Come on, mate… what the hell! Come _on_! Get _off_ of me!”

And even though you’re pretty strong yourself, the robot’s much stronger; his shoulders don’t even budge when you try to push him off.

“Forgive me”, he says. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Oh, whatever would make you think that?!” you yell, trying to push him away again, using all your strength this time; still no luck. _Drat_.

“Well, perhaps is because you are trying very hard to remove my body off from atop yours.”

“Well, if you insist that I must say it, then _yes_ , you are making me extremely uncomfortable! Now will you _please_ get off of me?”

“But are we not, as you’d like to call it, ‘strifing’? Indulging in your beloved ‘fistcuffs and whatnot’?”

“ _Fucking bloody hell_ , I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not fighting anymore, and lying on the floor does not count as a friendly strife, goddamn it!!!” Yeah, you are definitely losing your patience. Tired and defeated, you sigh, slumping your arms down your sides and frowning at him. He tilts his head to the side, as if somehow confused.

“It does not? Hm. I suppose I must review my concepts, then. But anyway,” He says, leaning in closer; you wince, raising both eyebrows at him. “I don’t really feel like strifing anymore.”

Your blood becomes ice cold.

“W-w-whatever do you mean by that?! G-get off! I will not say it again!”

“Yes, I’d actually appreciate it if you’d stop repeating yourself. I heard you from the first time, you know.”

“T-then what the hell you think you’re doing?! Please, get off of me already!”

But he promptly ignores you; slowly, the stubborn robot raises one arm and removes his pointy shades from his face, baring his red, mechanical eyes, probably to take a better look at you; you’re so damn close you can see and hear the gears of his artificial pupils dilating as they get accustomed to the daylight. He places his loyal accessory on the grass and lowers his right hand back to the floor to pin you down yet again. _Shit_. You just realized that you should’ve taken that opportunity to take a run for it. Your ears and cheeks warm up, both from anger and embarrassment, as the robot’s face approaches yours even more.

“Wait – stop – _please…!_ ”

And now your heart is beating faster, his nose only an inch away from yours, and all of the sudden, you know you’re afraid – you’re not really sure why, or of what, but you can feel a cold shiver run up your spine, and your guts twisting uncomfortably. You’d know the sensation anywhere, because it’s the same way you feel when you encounter a particularly challenging white monster in your stupidly dangerous island… though this time, it is not for your life you fear.

You really don’t want to think too much about what exactly it is that you fear so much right now.

You can’t keep looking at him anymore. You just can’t. You turn your head around, resting your cheek over the spiky grass, and you close your eyes, holding back a pathetic whimper. You curse yourself for just laying still, for letting him take from you whatever it is that he wants… but you’re so tired and feeling so freaking _humiliated_ , you really don’t feel like straining yourself anymore.

And something, something like a very stubborn voice in the back of your head, is also telling you that he wouldn’t do this to you. He simply wouldn’t. And as you lay there, muscles rigid and tense, you try to convince yourself of that, trying your hardest to calm down.

It’s not a very good attempt, really. Needless to say, it doesn’t work as well as you wish it would.

After a couple of minutes like that, your breath already shallow and fast paced, you clench your fists on the dirt unconsciously as you notice him moving again, approaching you a bit more, completely closing the distance between your bodies, and then there’s cold metal pressing ever so slightly against your forehead, and his hands come closer to your bare arms, robotic fingers curling up gently against your biceps...

You open your eyes and risk glancing up, noticing that he is _kissing_ _you_.

Though he can’t pucker up his cold, hard lips, it’s obvious that it’s a kiss, a very gentle one too, from the way he gingerly touches your skin with the smooth metal, eyes closed and expression serene. Your heartbeat only increases, your face flushing up even more, and now, instead of fright, you feel nothing but confusion.

When he pulls back, you feel a droplet of sweat running down your forehead, and he looks deep into your green, wide eyes.

“Forgive me for startling you.” He whispers, and when you say nothing in return, he continues. “I was monitoring your bodily functions. I always do; that’s why I didn’t believe you when you said you were feeling uncomfortable. But I know that I frightened you just now, and I am very sorry for it. It will not happen again.”

Finally he gets up, and oddly, you’re not as relieved as you know you should be. He watches as you prop yourself up in your elbows, his expression deadpan as always.

But you can also see a hint of sadness in his features by the slight way his brows are furrowed up.

You feel your chest tightening. And you have no idea why.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers again, and before you can say anything, he turns around with an inhuman speed and runs into the forest.

For the first time in a very long time, you’re speechless. You get his red glasses from the grass and turn it around in between your fingers, watching the web of circuits inside the colored acrylic, wondering what the hell just happened. You notice that you actually feel bad for making him feel guilty; it wasn’t his fault. What were you thinking, anyway? A robot, especially one made by Strider himself, would never do something so _preposterous_ to you without your consent – and you’d never give consent for something so kinky either. But you do think that maybe should just let him kiss you properly next time; that’ll probably be enough to let him know that you’re not upset.

 **Wait.**

What the hell are you saying?!?! By heavens, you _should_ be upset! You just thought you’d get molested by a robot just a minute ago – what a ridiculous notion, really, what the devil dicken’s fuck was going through your head?! You feel extremely silly right now –, and you shouldn’t feel bad for making him feel bad about it. He _should_ feel bad! He was acting like a total creeper! _God_.

But somehow, you have no fucking idea why, you still want to make it up for him. You still want to tell him that he shouldn’t be upset; that he can kiss you again if he wants, though a heads-up would come in handy next time around.

Because, really, he’s just a robot. He can’t really feel emotions or anything (then why are you all worked up about him getting upset? That’s a kind of emotion, right? Man, your head really hurts all of the sudden), what just happened must’ve been some kind of stupid prank Strider installed on him to make fun of you, that dim-witted little bastard. You’ll never understand all that irony he puts in his jokes, you swear to god.

And besides, it’s not like a kiss from his thin, metal lips would ever mean anything to either one of you, right?

You tighten your grip to his shades, hugging them closer to your chest, and you swallow dryly, feeling really awkward all of the sudden.

 _…right?_


End file.
